Don't Wake Up Dead
by InsaneScriptist
Summary: Harry has a revelation. Being a martyr meant facing some hard truths. Those truths had consequences. So he left Britain and that world and that time of his life. He just didn't expect to leave his own time, much less anything that happened afterwards. Magic is never predictable and history is both the present and the past.
1. Act I Part I

Don't Wake Up Dead by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the appreciated Umei no Mai

Summary: Being a martyr meant facing some hard truths. Those truths had consequences. So he left Britain and that world and that time of his life. Of course he'd end up in the mafia when it was forming, by accident.

* * *

 **I.**

Sometime after the brief high of victory, after the deep depressive lull during the burial of those lost and the mourning of the dead, is when Harry reaches his limit. He's built up a great tolerance to many things, including belittlement, torture, pain and bloodshed, and lost what he might have had to things like bullying, prejudice and corruption.

It's a brief epiphany where he can see his future laid out in front of him. Him and Ginny married, with kids. At least two, probably three. One a little girl named after his mum, and sending them off to Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione would drop off their kids and even Malfoy would drop off his mini-me. He'd go back to his job, leaving the youngest to be taken home by Ginny while he went back to the office; youngest Head Auror ever. The paperwork wouldn't do itself after all.

Worse is that with war-fresh eyes he can see how he'd fallen into complacency. How he ignored the favoritism, the brown-nosing for favor, how the pureblood movement never died out for all that it lost much of the radical anti-muggle sentiment. There was subtlety to their actions now and even more fear.

It utterly terrifies him how much he wants and doesn't want want that epiphany reveals.

There's blessed normality -all he's really ever wanted between freak and famous- and then there's the future where he's thrown himself away -all he's ever done, all the sacrifices others have made for him- for that normal and it terrifies him.

He's just going through the motions and Harry realizes he can see no greater hell than that after Voldemort.

 **II.**

He doesn't scream, or choke as the realization of utter clarity settles and starts slipping away like fog through grasping fingers.

Harry clings to it. That bright, harsh clarity. It's needed more than air, more than blood and Harry has never needed anything so much that his very existence seems to hinge on it.

It's then that Harry decides that he needs to get away. Far, far away from Britain. Find out who he really is beyond the 'Boy-who-lived' and 'Chosen One' nonsense.

To grow up, make mistakes that won't be plastered in papers, have affairs, see the world...

Gimmauld Palace's kitchen table makes for a handy place to have a revelation.

Here he can actually think beyond the grief.

 **III.**

For all that Ron is Harry's best mate, Hermione is his most loyal and devoted friend. They've butted heads a few times -generally because Hermione is an idealist, a crusader and nothing can shake that intensity and focus. Hermione does everything with a burning intensity reserved for the summer sun and a ferocity of the worst of winter storms. She'll rage and storm and bring down corruption where ever she goes and do so with a triumphant smile.

For all that Ron is Harry's best mate, Hermione is the planner, the thinker, the strategist. She's the one he'll voice concerns to; because Harry knows that his safety and survival, not his feelings are paramount. He knows she'll take his feelings into consideration and decide if his life or his feelings are more important. She's better about that now, after the war but...

He knows that she'd work around him, unintentionally patronize him with affection and use rhetoric and sense until he agreed with her. That's the terrible thing with Hermione, as she usually has good reasons and logic on her side. It turns things so simple and black and white that as much as he longs for it, he knows it would kill him. He's always known there are many shades of gray out there.

There's the reason he thinks of her as something like a sister and not a lover.

 **IV.**

"Are you just having a crisis?" She asks. "Honestly, Harry. That's normal. To be expected even. We were in a war, were hunted for a year, nearly died and were-" she swallows a sob with a grimace even as her eyes moisten, "were tortured. Having nightmares, crises and the like is normal."

"It's not just a crisis Hermione. It was one of those epiphanies where everything changed. One of those defining moments like getting your Hogwarts letter. Like finding out what was hidden on the third floor, what was in the Chamber of Secrets, like you deciding to stay by me when everyone hated me because they thought I cheated to get into the tournament, starting the DA. We've had those moments."

"Harry, most of those moments preceded us or you nearly getting killed." She informs him.

"Exactly. I know if I don't do something then I'm going to die. Not all at once but by inches."

Harry could see Hermione take a deep breath and set that marvelous brain of hers to work.

"Alright." She says. "I'll help."

 **V.**

Harry's not surprised by Hermione's conditions for her help. He expected them even.

"Let's figure out what you want. In exchange, you're going to be studying for your NEWTS too. I know you're going into the Auror program and Shaklebolt is loosening the restrictions on what applicants need right now but after magical Britain is on its feet and the worst of the clean-up and all the tribunals are over... you're going to need credentials. Not immediately if you're going to travel and we need to check on you money situation too but... What if you find some place to settle down? How are you going to get a job then? You'd need scores then. Languages too."

"At least a tent, food and so on for any travel into nature or just in case. Passport. A couple of books. Not just to study but things like cookbooks. I've always wanted to try my hand at making curry and the like."

"So India's on the list? Where else? Oh, there's this marvelous place in..."

 **VI.**

Settling Hermione on a roll takes something of a knack, and Harry's had practice at it.

Eventually they settle down on a plan.

Harry goes through the current Auror program such as it is. Studies for his NEWTs anyway and takes the ones needed for being an Auror in the first place. After the training period is over -normally closer to eighteen months but the need for manpower has cut it down to just a few months- he'll be working, gaining experience on the job and still studying. Plus there's going to be the additional training periods and the like later to pass as the Auror force settled into a peacetime force instead of a cobbled together group of wands. If he takes his NEWTs then that's more of those programs he gets to opt out of. There's still going to be stuff he has to sit through -laws, regulations and the like- but getting the NEWT-stuff out of the way now means more time later.

It's time he's going to need later. Hermione's somehow convinced him to at least study Runes and Arithmancy up to the OWL level. Knowledge is handy to have. Hermione's going to stay in Britain and be busy with her crusades so he's going to need to know it. He can't just turn around and ask her if she's not there. He can't always wait until she's awake or off work when someone's life is possibly on the line. He's going to have to know it, because any scrap of knowledge could prove useful.

In addition to that, there are ways to learn a language magically. If he's going to spend any significant amount of time elsewhere he's either going to have to learn through immersion, find someone to speak English or pantomime what he means and hopes he's understood. None of those options appeal to him, so he's going to have to learn the language. Preferably before he needs to use it. However for that to work would take Occulmency and Hermione was going to use the Room of Requirement -should it still work after all the fiendfyre- to find texts to learn it from and Harry hates himself for not thinking of that option back during his fifth year. A portrait who knows the obscure art that Harry is willing to trust or anything beyond what directions Snape gave him would have helped. In the meantime, Hermione suggests learning French first because she speaks it and Fleur speaks it so he could practice with them.

So that's his five year plan in a nutshell.

Work and study. Then leave.

He steels himself as he looks to Hermione for support.

He's going to have to break Ginny's heart. He loves her, but not enough it seems. Enough to kill a shade of a man who was killing her. Not enough to die for her. Not by inches and day by day.

 **VII.**

She promises to wait for him. Again.

They'll have their fun, start their own careers. Ginny still has Hogwarts and wants to be a professional chaser so their relationship would have been stressed and long-distanced for a while anyway.

He's certain that she's missing the point. Maybe she's thinking that she can convince him to stay once she retires from Quidditch or something. Have kids, settle for the status quo, die by inches when constrained to a single place.

He's not having it.

After those five years -starting a week ago- he's going. He's not going to look back. There's no doubt that he won't visit -Teddy is his godson and Andromeda isn't getting younger- but he's not going to stay.

Nothing and no one can make him stay. He's not going to be kept tied to one place and miserable while everyone pretends there's progress, addressing the symptoms and not the underlying problem. He hopes Hermione's crusades will make a difference, but it might be too little, too late.

 **VIII.**

Dealing with the goblins is a hassle and a half, involving far too much politics for Harry to ever want to deal with them again. He's going to have to, but he has plenty of issues with them. The goblins are worse than the politics and goblin politics are something that Harry will happily avoid for the rest of his life.

For them to be the only species that Hagrid has ever bad-mouthed in anyway... well, they've certainly earned Harry's enmity. Grudging respect but general hatred. Prior to this meeting both Harry and Hermione have studied up on goblin treaties, law and more. Taxes, settlement agreements with the Ministry, laws and goblin honor, customs and more. They needed every scrap of knowledge they could get.

It's still a harrowing meeting and Harry is thankful that Kingsley has spared a day to lend the authority of the Ministry of Magic to their case. It still ends up being a week-long ordeal, as deliberations have to be done, estimates made, permission gained and well it's a mess of legal tangles because Gingotts has more dragons than it should and few are treated well. Then there's the complication of Griphook. Griphook broke his word. First he broke his word to Gringotts -he did help them break in- and then he broke the deal with Harry. Even being slightly more honest and saying there was an artifact kept in Bellatrix's vault that kept Voldemort alive and needed to be disposed of... it didn't earn him any gratitude.

Well... it's just more incentive to get out of Britain. Get his money out too.

They were the only species that Hagrid had ever bad-mouthed and not claimed as misunderstood.

 **IX.**

Harry knows he's never going to be a social butterfly. He knows he's not the brightest, or the dumbest but...

He's never liked his fame. The initial reason for the fame was bad enough. The most famous orphan after Oliver Twist. Now he's actually earned it, as an adult. As a man who defeated the Dark Lord, You-know-who himself.

The safe patrols in Hogsmeade or the Alley see him swarmed with kids. That he doesn't mind so much. He's a bit awkward with them but he's only had practice with Teddy who's not as old as some of them. Teddy is only learning to walk now. It's not the first time he's had star struck young ones that had never seen him before? He doesn't mind their swarming curiosity; they're only a little worse than the awestruck firsties from when he was in school.

The grown adults who cowered in their homes, fled the country without reason and more flinging themselves into his space. Who try to invade what scrap of privacy he still has?

Those he hates.

 **X.**

Studying wasn't that much of a chore, even when juggling his Auror training and duties. He had Grimmauld more or less to himself. Ron visited frequently, but was half-living with George, part living with his mother and part living here, so Harry was free to crack open a book and read instead of being dragged away from learning for games of chess or quidditch.

He somehow ended up learning quite a bit from the former headmaster Phineas Black but Harry's not certain how that happened. The Blacks even had a few books on Occulmency that Kretcher was happy to drag out from where he had hid them from Molly's cleaning.

Not that having better instructions than 'clear your mind' helped all that much. He was much better at it but he was still pants at it.

Other things he learned included warding. Not just the basics covered in the Auror training, or what he picked up from Bill. The Blacks had been as good at warding as they were mad. Even so, they had their limits. Blood Wards were one of them.

He feels his respect for Dumbledore curl up and die.

 **XI.**

To be quite honest, he preferred learning and studying with Fleur rather than Hermione. Hermione meant well but he didn't quiet mesh well with her furious intake of knowledge, the rote memorization and all the quizzing. He adjusted to it but cramming wasn't his preferred learning style.

Harry was certain that Fleur was the only reason he passed his Potions NEWT, much less with an unexpected Outstanding. She explained things in a way that salvaged his interest in the subject from the intense hatred Snape had managed to infuse in it. The only problem was that he had to remember to write his answers in English instead of French.

He also passed his OWLs in Runes and Arithmancy. That, Bill really didn't have to help him with. It appeared he had a knack for it, really. He still appreciated the help and little memorization tricks that Bill taught him.

 **XII.**

Somewhere along those five years, in between dodging fans, helping rebuild the ministry, figuring out a mess of laws and catching dark wizards breaking the law Harry got a NEWT in Runes and Arithmancy as well. He also managed to acquire an understanding of politics and how to use any and all advantages he had to his and his agenda's benefit; he really would have made a great Slytherin. Sometimes it comes a little too naturally to him, once he learns the ropes. He chooses not to get too caught up in office and ministerial politics too much; he'll leave that to Hermione.

Oh and he was still terrible at Occulmency -especially the controlling your emotions part- but Legilimency? He learned a lot of things with that.

Criminals feared to meet his gaze. Having sharp wire-rimmed glasses only helped. He also picked up over a dozen languages and a distinctly illegal skill-set on the sly. For a good cause.

And he kept the fact that he still understood snakes a secret.

Even from Hermione.

Some things were best kept secret.

 **XIII.**

He decided to take a vacation at the end, while the notice for his resignation progressed through the cogs of bureaucracy. He had already become a senior auror somehow; being head auror was a fate that Harry wished to avoid. A concrete and tangible sign of his complacency and all that it entailed. Bad enough that Ron washed out as the Aurors transitioned to what they were supposed to be as he lacked the knowledge that having NEWTs would have given him. Instead Ron was working for his elder brother and technically Harry; Harry still owned a third of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes for giving the twins the start up money.

His first stop was France. He wined, he dined and he even shagged a few of those he had wined and dined. He took precautions, as they were generally not magical as he tended to avoid the enclaves until the end of his stay in the country. Plus, muggle wasn't a very nice term, something he decided five years ago; he didn't know a good one to replace it with though but that was something Hermione could work on as well. Then after a visit to the enclave -generally for books and a couple of papers- he meandered around Europe as the year changed.

A year into his meandering and tour, George had recreated the Marauder Mirrors and Harry often spoke with all those in Britain through them; Harry charmed his to look like a phone since those were common enough to not be remarked on. He told George and Hermione to look into technology -while it might sometimes spazz among magicals- it was important to not be ignorant about its capabilities. Cellphones were gaining rapid popularity and the number of features included kept going up. Harry had first been amazed at the prospect of those cordless portable phones, but now they were everywhere and could send bits of words with a few touches of the keys. Those were text messages, and while Harry wasn't the most tech-savvy he did know that any half competent phone company was going to expand on those capabilities. Internet, video, audio... the Statue of Secrecy was threatened because obliviators couldn't obliviate a phone, nor could they stop a message that had already been sent. Magicals would have to adapt and quickly.

Obtaining the Daily Prophet in a foreign land wasn't possible, but a few of the international papers had segments that mentioned Britain and how they were dealing with the 'Rise of Technology: The Greatest Threat to Secrecy Yet!' Then there were a few other papers he read, most usually the Quibbler as it had a surprisingly high fan-base outside of Britain. He read the normal papers from the back to the front like Sirius had done and read the Quibbler upside down like Luna does.

Doing so in a cafe outside of one of northern Italy's magical districts might have been a mistake, he later thinks.

 **XIV.**

Honestly, prior to his meandering around the world and Europe, Harry hadn't known that the Quibbler was an international magazine. The articles in the international version were only a little less insane. Still crazy political scandals but they were tailored to the country; the Rotfang conspiracy was an English thing but the Dewclaw Theft Ring was an interesting read in Germany.

Italy's local political conspiracy is based more in fact, although Harry's a bit more lost in which is which that what is what. He'd either get the references in time or not. If he didn't he'd be lost but if he did, well... it was good information to know. Finding the facts inside the Quibbler's articles was half of the fun.

There was also the fact that the Quibbler was actually charmed as it came off the presses; Harry suspected a runic charm on the presses. There were articles that couldn't be read unless the paper was held a certain way -generally upside down- but which page varied issue to issue and year to year. The runic puzzles -one of the few mainstays between the English edition and its international cousins- held the clue if a person could solve them. The Swiss Quibbler's clues were all in Chinese and so Harry had to learn six dialects of it and even then Harry had issues in getting that one right consecutively. The Russian Quibbler was almost as bad as it used Portuguese and Dutch.

Also, those hidden articles? They weren't always in the language the local Quibbler was published in. The hidden articles in the Italian edition? They were in Bulgarian and a hodge-podge of English if the language didn't have a particular word. Last month the Italian edition had them in Greek; the language and not the turn of phrase Greek, with the Greek Alphabet and everything.

So the points of interest article of the hidden article was talking about a conflict in a fishbowl. The sort of metaphorical 'tempest in a teacup' that Harry expected from the Quibbler. So there were a lot of characters in the points of interest article. Harry wasn't caring much for the barnacle, even if the barnacle guy did lose three ships? Maybe friends, partners, heirs? Whatever. So there was a conflict between a very talented shark and his school and a pufferfish or something. Either way, the article read about the shark school getting disqualified in a race or something so the pufferfish won the ring prize. There was something about some sort of maybe angler fish -Harry's interpretation of the article didn't exactly praise the guy's intelligence- and how he was supposed to be checking in on barnacle guy and a mention of depth charges. Not exactly a clear cut article, but Harry got the idea that it was an inner-famiglia conflict and this was probably the exact sort of information that could get him killed.

(Magical politics were usually more straightforward and unusual where actual names were mentioned and supposed activities of corrupt officials were quite blatant if odd in that distinct Quibbler fashion. There had been quite the scandal in Spain when the Minister had been found with a harem of selkie despite selkie being native to Ireland. It had the dubious honor of it was actually true. That mess was still being hashed out.)

The fact it was actually published... well... Harry wasn't sure why he read it. Or why he kept reading it. The Quibbler was still an outlandish magazine, no matter what country it was printed in.

 **XV.**

He was reading the history section of the fishbowl; the Quibbler publishers were nice enough to include that. It cleared up some questions and left him with a lot more. Typical of the magazine, really. Half of the fun came from finding answers through whatever fashion the Quibbler's readers chose. Something of a monthly scavenger hunt for answers or a warning, however vague.

He was certain that it would probably be a good idea to get out of Italy. Group instability generally meant a mess and messes tended to get everywhere even with precautions. The lack of names and conspiracy allegations implied it was not a magical matter. Harry could connect the dots to what he knew of non-magical Italy and would rather avoid the mafia.

Of course that's when his damned luck kicked in.

Why the fuck was a mafia shootout happening right in front of him?

Why were some of them wearing cow print?

Catching and tossing the grenades lobbed his way by those wearing not cow print suits -what sort of utter pricks involved civilians in their mess like this and he hated not being able to use magic blatantly- kept him and the cafe reasonably intact. Those in cow print at least had aim.

Even so, both groups eventually skedaddled, dragging or leaving dead men and injured men and Harry returned to pick up his Quibbler. He was going to his hotel, checking out and leaving this part of the country, possibly to never return.

Of course this is where despite his war paranoia and reflexes, it's proven that you have to know how to fight something to actually succeed at beating it without an overwhelming amount of sheer dumb luck.

(Mist Flames were something Harry had never seen before, hadn't really even heard of. Nor had he heard about some of the interesting uses for Lightning Flames, like how to prevent the body from metabolizing sedatives by hardening the chemical bonds.)

 **XVI.**

Harry woke up feeling hungover. The sort of hungover that took a lot of firewhiskey to achieve. Except he hadn't been drinking.

The room he was in was suspiciously bland. Not the hospital white, but the office industrial beige, a rickety hospital like bed and no windows. A brief look around the room -prison since that was a solid steel door- and it was apparent he was supposed to be kept here. For whatever purpose, Harry wasn't sure.

He at least woke up clothed in his clothing and still in possession of all his hidden things. The knives charmed invisibly to fit into an expanded space affixed withing his boots. His wand tucked similarly into a leather bracelet, and was still there. The shrunken trunk that when expanded was like Hermione's beaded purse but when shrunk worked something like a pendant when smaller and just contained a lock of Ginny's hair; it was her gift to him and he found carrying that bit of hair around to be just creepy but he couldn't take it out either due to the spells; he knew how to counter those, but the effort and the discomfort wasn't worth the fight there. He normally put it out of his mind, but upon closer examination, some of that hair was missing. Creepy.

Very, very creepy especially once he caught up on the sci-fi movies he never had a chance to watch as a child and learned what science was actually capable of. This could be terrible since his interest in Ginny had long since passed on. She was a nice girl, he loved her once upon a time and probably still would for some more but he didn't want to marry her and have kids with her. That wouldn't be fair to the kids, much less anyone else.

So he either had to go through a wall -it probably was lined with metal- or try the door which at least was made to open unlike the walls. He could also wait and hope to be let out and not wake up with a nasty case of death. He was pretty certain that he couldn't avoid Death for a third time, supposed Master of Death or not. He'd rather avoid a third killing curse, much like he'd rather avoid a bullet through the brain.

A bit of examination -wandless magic was a rare talent but not impossible to master and was so very useful. Really, really useful especially with a bit of experimentation. A mufflato and a silencio were enough to fry an alarm system. A simple alohomora meant the door opened with a simple push. There was no way to not get caught on camera so he'd have to find their security center and probably destroy it if he wanted to apparate out; otherwise he'd have to fight his way out.

A crooked smile graced his lips.

He had missed the excitement of hitwizard-style work.

 **XVII.**

Harry's not entirely sure if it's the fact that he's dealing with the mafia or his own irritation that makes him so vicious when dealing with these pricks.

Either way, he's not being that merciful. If anything he's being callously cruel.

He's clearly taken a page out of Hermione's book. That page is ruthlessness. Actually, he might be copying the chapter and leaving notes in the margin. Hermione is more inventive when vengeful being more inclined for humiliation, but Harry appreciates the effectiveness and efficiency of precise use of power.

The mafia minions really don't stand a chance, especially one as low level as these guys. Guns are dangerous, but they have to be able to aim, fire and hit to have a chance. Harry had even disarmed and knocked out those that had come after him, robbing them of weapons along the way. He knows he's going to have to use those weapons since magic beyond the most subtle would blow the Statue of Secrecy. He's also going to have to use the minions, which means making sure those he takes down won't be getting up or otherwise causing trouble.

Once he has an appropriate minion, and a bit of time and safe enough space... well, Harry makes use of his legilmency talent. He only needs one that looks a bit higher up the food-chain than the hired guns.

 **XVIII.**

The mind isn't a book to be read, that much Harry can agree with Snape about.

Everything else?

Well, Harry's got lots of practice in reading criminals and has picked up no few psychology books. He probably knows a lot more about the mind, coping mechanisms and more than Snape ever did. Spy or not, bad childhood and school bullying don't exactly excuse murder; except for the spying thing Harry had a similarly bad start of things and almost a year on the run in a tent just meant he had more strength of character than Snape did. Harry could forgive people, but he wasn't going to forget what they did or were like.

It's not reading someone's mind so much as diving in with a bungee cord, a mission and coming out with treasure. Pearl diving in other words, for pieces of knowledge.

He's a very excellent seeker, even with his glasses.

Legilemency isn't like reading a book, but it is a lot like hunting the snitch.

 **XIX.**

Say what you will about how quackish magicals are about a lot of things, but the difference between tradition and science is proof that it works that way every time unless it's proven to work otherwise. Reading the Quibbler is far more educational than the Daily Prophet ever was and in far more ways than what's news worthy.

That said, all fiction has a base in reality. Who knew that fiction -even terrible action movies- contained so much useful fact when the characters and plot are stripped away? Well, probably the author and producers but whatever.

What sort of stupid idiots put all their security features in one room? Even an amateur warder knew better than to put all the wards on one anchor if they want anything to last.

Then again it appears he's dealing with mafia-wannabe scientists. Not the evil mad 'experiment on children' or 'creating zombie virus' kinds of scientists but more of the technological 'let's distort the time-space continuum and put it in a weapon.'

Harry's rather appalled by that.

These people have even less sense than most wizards! Wizards know to layer their security!

Confiscating what they have at the moment wouldn't stop them, but it would certainly put a serious dent in their operations. Plus, well... clearly they've figured out time travel. To the future. Nothing like a time-turner, but really? That's just a matter of time.

 **XX.**

Beyond learning what these cow-print mafioso do -weapons that distort the timeline is really just the tip of things- Harry learns a few more things about the mafia and the Bovino famiglia while he's locked himself inside their security room as he tries to think about how to get out of here without breaking Magical Secrecy.

Thankfully his mind-diving has turned up something interesting; the mafia has its own unique power and secrecy contract.

Flames and the Omerta.

Dying -or Death- Resolution Flames, although Harry's not entirely certain about his translation. Despite Italian being a Latin-based language doesn't mean that he can't mistranslate things. Fiamma means Flames but the rest is rather awkward. Anyway, it takes a lot of willpower and resolve to use them and a person has to be born with them...

... it sounds a lot like a form of magic, to be honest.

Potentially wandless magic or a form of it, but one that they -the Bovino Famiglia- could expect, so Harry could use that or fake it, until he broke out of where ever this place was and could get somewhere to apparate away from this place.

A place that wasn't covered in cameras, and had a feasible escape explanation other than 'magic.'

He's going to go destroy the security center, and he will. Then he'll destroy the weapons.

 **XXI.**

Wandless magic was difficult, but not impossible. One of the ways that Aurors and Hitwizards differed was the requirement for this.

In non-magical terms the Aurors were the police; they were the ones on patrol, the bodyguards, the detectives, the ones that made arrests of petty and major criminals alike. They needed to be educated on the laws, forensics, general magic, dark magic, artifacts, combat and more to catch those that broke the laws and dark wizards alike.

The Hit Wizards were the ones that worked in high-risk situations; out right magical battle, chased after known dangerous criminals, did hostage negotiation, contained creature catastrophes and even major magical disturbances when the oblivators need an extra hand. Investigation wasn't their priority and neither was patrols down Diagion Alley. There was a reason why Hit Wizards had a starting salary of seven hundred galleons a month, were assigned a broom and a bed at St. Mungos. They had the most dangerous jobs that were part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

All senior aurors needed to do a stint as a Hit Wizard and that's what Harry had joined Shaklebolt's Ministry as. Hitwizards just needed skill with a wand and a willingness to use it no matter the cause, not detective spells, not legal regulations.

It was highly recommended that any and all Hit Wizards or Hit Witches learned a couple of wandless tricks and they were taught a number of exercises meant to facilitate that. It would take a lot of practice, but much like non-verbal magic it took time to learn and use well.

One of the reasons Harry was tipped for being the youngest Head Auror ever was his comparative mastery of wandless magic in addition to his general fame and skill.

 **XXII.**

So he figured that between the basics of the idea he scanned about Flames, and his own experience with wandless magic he should be able to summon these Flames in his hand.

Visualize, intent and resolve... Flames right? So he should picture fire.

Harry found that he had a big crackling purple mass of... energy in his hand instead.

 **XXIII.**

Harry, remembering a fair many pick-up Quidditch games where he played as Chaser, lobbed the crackling purple lightning into the nearby electronics.

That was not normal fire or anything he had expected. That was crackling green lightning and purple haze that multiplied the electricity.

Harry soon realizes that this almost instinctive reaction _might_ have been a bad idea when the lights go out.

(He's not aware that he has not only knocked out power in the Bovino complex but within the entire town. The massive amount of Lightning Flames multiplied by Cloud Flames means that the power of the Lightning Flames was intensified by several magnitudes.

Most homes within the town experience flickering power for the next few minutes before the power shuts off. The businesses within the town also experience the same as their breakers and fuse boxes flip and break the circuit of current. The Bovino are close to town, but are not in it. Closer to the Bovino, several electrical transformers blow, ground wires snap and go dancing alive with deadly current and throwing sparks.

Within the Bovino compound the intense heat of multipled Lightning Flames burned the connection that the Bovino stole their electricity from, essentially saving the town from having its electrical grid burned out. The same cannot be said about the wiring within the compound as the massive amount of electrical energy heats the wiring to such high temperatures that it starts melting inside the walls.)

Harry _knows_ its a bad idea when the fire alarms start blaring, not even a minute later.

He needs to get out, but things are likely to be difficult. The security center was in the middle of the base and Harry knows that he needs to get rid of the technology the Bovino create; portals through time in a bazooka being a clear example of why.

 **XXIV.**

Despite the fire alarms blaring, these mafioso haven't evacuated yet. Instead, there are people shooting at him and tossing granades his way. Grenades!

Clearly they're annoyed with him.

Harry, using borrowed guns is shooting back and he doesn't quite care that he's killing those he hits. Aiming with a wand was far more difficult as most spells are not just points and jabs in front of you. Despite the recoil and noise, Harry's aim is true.

The same can be said of the grenades that he's tossed back.

Harry's not certain how the emergency lights are on, but they do make things tricky. Low levels of light means its easier to hide, but it's also harder to see.

He probably should have stolen some cowprint, mingled and left. Or even disillusioned himself.

Now Harry's common sense finally arrived along with hindsight, nearly a dozen shots and at least fifteen minutes of bad decisions later.

 **XXV.**

Harry, despite several years at Hogwarts, knew how to get around confusing places. Hogwarts had trick steps, fake doors, hidden staircases, secret passages, out of the way alcoves and nooks that shifted frequently.

The thing is, Harry had spent years getting used to the castle. He also had a map of it as well.

Harry figured that he'd been here less than a day and knows he has no idea where he's going.

It really is his luck that he ends up where he shouldn't be and exactly where he thinks he wants to.

It's here that Harry is forcefully reminded of is that magic and technology don't mix well.

(If the lights had been on, Harry never would have entered this door... sometimes however bad decisions are just a part of history.

Even if those bad decisions happened in the future.)

* * *

These first two chapters are pretty much the prologue of 'Don't Wake Up Dead' and I should make it known that this fic is written mostly out of spite so will update more sporadically than I usually update things. Technically this was inspired by The Silver Dragon Master's 'Challenge Harry Potter and the 1st Gen Vongola' as I was really annoyed by all the Giotto/Tsuna worship and Ricardo-is-bad in the KHR-fandom so um, I put my own twist on things. Because _why not?_


	2. Act I Part II

Don't Wake Up Dead by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the busy Umei no Mai

Summary: Being a martyr meant facing some hard truths. Those truths had consequences. So he left Britain and that world and that time of his life. Of course he'd end up in the mafia when it was forming, by accident.

* * *

 **XXVI.**

Harry despite his glasses was not blind without them. He does however need them if he's going to be reading anything; he has an astigmatism problem and it distorts words and fine details into blurs.

Not that reading is possible with the low levels of light and general flurry of activity within the base that Harry is certain is burning down with whatever those Resolution Flames are or whatever they were actually called. It might be on fire properly now, so he should get out. Pronto.

Which would mean magic.

He does however know that he can latch and secure this door behind him, take out all the security and then apparate out of here and take a break in England so he can avoid Italy for a while.

Destroying technology is a fairly easy thing to do; Hermione said that magic could do something on the electromagnetic spectrum and as a person's magic fluxed based on how they felt... well, a watch battery could die in minutes or last for a decade and _watches were simple_ compared to the wonders of technology that were video cameras.

Or technology that he really didn't understand but knew needed to be destroyed as thoroughly as possible.

Like time-traveling technology.

(And any other bit of technology in this room.)

 **XXVII.**

Harry, despite being adept with wandless magic, couldn't create a shockwave of it and spread it evenly while ensuring it still had an effect. Any witch or wizard could learn how to show off their aura, their magic and so on, even use it to effects like intimidation or giving comfort.

Having a flare of magical aura destroy the room was not only impractical, but also beyond him. Harry had no lack of magical power, he did however have an ongoing fight with having it be precise and even enough to be useful in such a way to utterly destroy a room all around him; a semi-circle yes, but a full perfect circle? He hadn't managed that in years of attempts, once he had first learned of the possibility. He had tried and practiced and trained and still couldn't get a perfect circle.

He could however launch magical shockwaves and make these people think he escaped through more 'normal' means than say magically teleportating out better known as apparation. Best not to leave evidence of magic, considering that he's certain that is quite the violation of the International Statue of Secrecy. Somehow. The Flames the mafia already knew of are one thing, but actual magic? Best to leave no record at all if possible.

Hence why he destroyed the security center in the first place.

Best to destroy the technology -all of it- in this room, cast a disillusionment or a wandless equivalent thereof after and then get out of this place and Italy in general.

Harry gives himself rather good odds of avoiding an international incident so long as he's not caught in the act and not suspected of being involved, no matter how distantly. He knows how Aurors and other law-enforcement works and think; politicians too. Suspicion is very much like fact for some people.

 **XXVIII.**

It's hard to tell, but he's certain that there's smoke coming through the magically barred door. That's not a good sign, even if the camouflage of the smoke would be to his advantage, even without the cameras -at least the obvious ones- being already destroyed to make sure. It's hard to find them in such low-light.

He could do a more thorough search for some hidden 'bugs' so long as he could avoid dying or getting set on fire. A flame-freezing charm is easy enough but he's not certain how it would interact with whatever mafia magic those Resolution Flames are. It's not exactly Cursed fire, but it's different enough from any other sort of magical fire that he's not keen to experiment in a life-threatening situation.

He's already been enough of a Gryffindor already today. It's clearly not the time for that now.

Harry knows that he's already taken out the cameras, so he ransacks the storage areas. There's lots of ammo that he dumps carelessly in a pile, away from the heat; having the ammo propel itself wildly because the powder in the shells combusted is not something he wants to happen to him. The weapons go in another pile, closer to the door.

Time to protect the sanctity of the timelines he mangles the weapons and to think, he once thought he wanted a normal life and that these adventures would stop once he was out of Hogwarts if he was lucky enough to survive school with Voldemort trying to kill him. His life has outdone itself several times since then, although there had been no other Dark Lord planning on genocide trying to kill him.

(His worst enemy was complacency and apathy in other people.

Evil wins when no one stops it.)

 **XXIX.**

The amount of smoke building up in the room is concerning, Harry thinks, but a modified bubble-head charm forms a transparent gas-mask. He knows that there's fire outside of the room; he can feel the heat through the wall. Getting out now is more imperative than ever.

However that doesn't explain the tint of colour to it. He's not sure if there's a leaky canister of something -tear gas, mustard gas, some sort of airborne poison- but it's effecting the air-quality in here to a visible extent. Some sort of red-tinge that he can't make out through what little light is in the room.

Using the bubble-head variant means that Harry's not breathing it in but he's well aware that not all things have to be ingested or breathed in to be effective. In that case, he's most certainly fucked.

Twice over, since there will no doubt be some political fallout from this, should he get connected to this incident. Hopefully it would remain local and no one would know about his involvement other than him and whoever he tells. He'd rather not deal with that sort of mess. It would be a nasty, international and frustrating business at best. If he's really unlucky, someone would send Hermione after him; marriage may have worked wonders on how tense Hermione usually was -which said far too much about his best friends' sex life- but in some ways she had only gotten more vicious. It was _scary_ and Harry was scared of that possibility.

Should you know, he get caught up in this mess. That's a big _if_.

He wasn't planning on that, and so decided to apparate out as this colored smoke was curling around his knees.

(Magic and technology really don't mix.

The ammo is the key to the ten-year bazooka's success. The bazooka just makes what happens consistent and safe enough to be used by even children.

Even then accidents are inevitable, but at least using the bazooka means that it's reversible.

Accidents with time and space have a frustrating tendency to be permanent because no one understands them.)

 **XXX.**

Apparation while uncomfortable was something that Harry had adjusted to years ago. Extensive practice and so on of a very useful skill. He didn't even have to concentrate all that much nowadays, especially to certain locations that he was very familiar with.

A momentary squeeze of pressure and a small pop of displaced air and Harry would be home free.

Except his luck isn't that good and Harry knows his life has taken another unexpected twist. This is worse than the Floo, portkeys and apparations combined. There's no hook behind his navel, but there's the whirring sensation of portkeys, the falling twisting feeling of using the floo with enough of a sense of compression that has Harry feeling claustrophobic.

It's enough to make Harry feel an immediate sense of relief when he finally lands somewhere. He thinks he didn't splinch, feels certain of it and then feels the need to hurl.

 **XXXI.**

After vacating whatever he's eaten for the past week from his stomach, Harry finds himself shivering as he dry heaves; it's worse than actually puking. Nothing's coming up now but it's painful how weak he feels because of the need to do it and no result. It's already all out on the ground, spreading into a puddle and Harry sidles backwards on all fours and away from his puke puddle.

He had felt the excitement of adrenalin leave him during his heaving, which means it is time for discipline. Harry drags himself into a sitting position, brings out his wand and casts some basic spells. Vanishing his mess, setting up a notice-me-not and other basic wards.

He's not sure where he's at beyond it being vaguely forested but he could probably rest here for a bit. Wandless magic was always more mentally tiring than physically, but the mafia's magic flames have put him into a state where he can feel tired down to his bones the way that a three-day cross-country chase of a wanted criminal or dealing with a serial or spree-killer could.

Who knows, maybe he had avoided an international incident that would involve something like the mafia. He doesn't even want to think how treacherous it would make the usually muddy waters of international politics.

 **XXXII.**

Maybe he could avoid an incident if he's lucky. Something has happened, will happen and Harry's had years of evidence that if he's lucky one way then what happens next will be worse.

Finding out he had magic gave him a prejudiced world, relative freedom from his relatives for most of the next seven years and a Dark Lord after his life. He knows full and well that for him, no good deed goes unpunished; even if some of the punishments are more obscure and seen as 'rewards' by people who don't have to live with such things.

(What would he do with more fame? He _despised_ it.

And what would he do with more wealth? Spend it on his non-existent family and extravagant social life?

Hermione stop saying that I'm whinging. He remembered saying years ago now. There's a reason I'm not staying. If I stay, I'll be trapped and _die by inches_. I'll be buried under expectations and remembered for nothing more than surviving the killing curse twice and then one day I'll find myself waking up to a dead life, living out empty and thoughtless expectations from the masses, from myself, from my family instead of being myself. I don't want that Hermione. I don't want _to be like that_.

Don't wake up dead? Hermione repeated, with one of those pensive and furiously thoughtful looks.

That's a nice motto. Harry decided. Simple, meaningful. It's a goal.

Honestly Harry, she said while gently giving him a playful punch on the shoulder, isn't being an auror going to be enough? And what about Ginny?

And _that_ , Harry told her, is _exactly_ the problem.

 _Oh._ She uttered before she hugged him. _Oh, Harry_.)

 **XXXIII.**

'' _Oh, Harry_ ' indeed,' he thought. 'Just what have you gotten yourself into?'

 **XXXIV.**

It was sad if telling that he had turned a spot not that far away from his landing spot into a temporary camp. It wasn't that far of a walk and he did maintain a sight line of that spot. A just in case, sort of monitoring that he was rather certain was unnecessary but still doing to distract himself from what he had discovered in the nearby town.

It was the same town, just much smaller and much younger. By over a hundred years.

He was currently in the eighteen-hundreds! Well over a century before he was even born!

Just his fucking luck.

(He knew he couldn't avoid something if he managed to escape the international political scandal. He just wasn't expecting this as his fate and fortune.

Time-travel had never been something he wanted to do. His experiences in his third year at Hogwarts had been headache-inducing enough.)

 **XXXV.**

The only conclusion he can come to is that the smoke did something. He knew it wasn't the right color and being thorough in his destruction had cost him a trip through time.

He really did not want to deal with that fact.

Like he did not want to deal with the fact he has no idea if it's possible to get back. He has no idea how to get back. He hasn't looked much into time-travel and related studies, leaving that to the Unspeakables. He doesn't know the technology that clearly turned a simple apparation into a trip into the past.

He does know that he has to get back somehow. He doesn't have the Bovino technology but he does have magic. People have been using magic for longevity for nearly as long as recorded history documents. Probably for some time before that even.

He doesn't know how to get back. Has no clue how, either. So despite wanting to, all he can do is wait and hope not to die.

Elixer of life? Flamel is alive at this point but Harry is currently a utter nobody with nothing but the possessions he currently has. He has nobody to vouch for him to even try to obtain a meeting with the famed alchemist. No brilliant school records to incite a possible apprenticeship from the famed alchemist.

Horcruxes are fundamentally flawed in the fact that while the spirit doesn't pass on, the body will still age. Just no. He's learned he has no problems killing those who try to kill him and his, but it is still a weight he's uncomfortable bearing outside of the flow of battle, although slaughter was a more effective word for what happened to the Bovino that went against him.

He's not sure how else to do anything _else_. Sure there's always getting petrified or the Draught of Living Death but that would be reliant on someone else to revive him nearly a century and a several decades of excess years later.

He has no one and no option to do anything other than survive and thrive.

(Don't wake up dead, right?)

 **XXXVI.**

That's going to be easier said than done. He had looked through the little town, clad in notice-me-nots and a disillusionment. Not the cloak; useful, oh so useful but it is still a layer of fabric that can get in the way. The disillusionment and notice-me-not cover each other's weaknesses well.

Things had been very different and that was very obvious. Not just visually but by scent; people stank in a way that he hadn't expected them to. His nose had been forgiving and adjusted quickly but it was still an unexpected bit of sensory processing. The people looked more or less the same, but how they dressed was a huge clue that he wasn't where he had been as was the considerably more dilapidated architecture.

He had first thought he had wound up in some other country or maybe in some area that hadn't gone and gotten plumbing yet. No, that hadn't happened.

He had overheard some things in town. Little things here and there but it was mostly daily gossip. There was no handy newspaper to read.

In fact, he was almost certain that even if such a paper existed, the majority of the town wouldn't be able to read it. Maybe a few could read a few words, maybe their names and so on but more than that was just a statistical impossibility.

The town was a small backwater of poverty and desperate people who were trying to eek out a living as best they could under all the burdens they were crushed by. Those they knew about and those they didn't.

It was a depressing existence, that sort of life in this sort of time.

Which he was now _stuck_ in.

 **XXXVII.**

The year is currently _not important_. Harry's trying not to think about it. He's thinking about other things.

Like getting back to his life. The one he had chosen. Traveling, experiencing new things, helping not only Britian as an Auror but other magical nations through his 'expertise' on muggle technology and how to keep magic a secret despite it. Spending time with Teddy and Andromeda, speaking in French with Fleur and Hermione over the Weasley dinner table, discussing all sorts of topics with Luna, and even discovering new favourite foods in foreign places. Talking to Neville about all sorts of plants and how teaching classes went and how Neville went and got engaged.

There's so much more that he had wanted and he hadn't even realized it.

Until now.

 **XXXVIII.**

He doesn't have that life anymore. He doesn't even have a _chance_ at it.

From what he remembers of the Bovino's invention -what he found out about it anyway- it is only supposed to work in sending a person forward. An exact measurement of ten years and only for five minutes. There are various eh, ways to tamper with that but generally it just muddles with the exchange of present and future in odd ways. The future possibilities can stay over just five minutes, as can many of the various mishaps but... it's always an _exchange_.

Somehow.

Harry is in the _past_. Not stuck ten years in the future with no idea what he's doing or why with the potential to cause paradoxes for a previous self; Harry hasn't even been born yet! His father hasn't and he's almost certain that his great-grandparents haven't been born either!

He did not exchange with a previous or future self. So assuming that whatever bit of technology causes the switch had malfunctioned so magnificently and due to his own arrogance with the random effects magic had on technology...

 **XXXIX.**

He had made such a mistake with no way to fix it. He wanted to, oh, how he _wanted_ to.

There was so much that could be done, and that warred with what should be done. He wanted to do something about blood-prejudice, wanted to prevent that war before those seeds ever reached fruition under Voldemort's bloody reign of terror. He wanted to protect and serve the vulnerable members of the magical community; the children, the elderly, the poor, the diseased, the unseen and the disregarded.

He wanted to give out the recipe for Wolfbane, write laws protecting house-elves and so much more but he couldn't. Not without doing something terrible to history, potentially even his own 'history' as miserable as it was in the beginning. If he would even be alive that long.

That there was so much that he wanted to do but couldn't did cut down on his 'plans' such as they were. He had no idea what to do.

So he grieved for his loss.

 **XXXX.**

He spent the night grieving.

He mentally flayed himself open again and again for being so stupid and arrogant. He wept over the fact that he might not even live long enough to see his loved ones again. He cried and begged magic and Merlin for an intervention or a sign.

None came.

 **XXXXI.**

He didn't wake up dead, but he did feel off-balance to the point that trolls doing ballet were probably more graceful. It was, he figured, only proper to feel such now that he was so far away of his responsibilities and unable to do something to influence what he knew of as history. Not unless he wanted a paradox and...

Harry also knew that he did have to go to Britian again. See to a few errands like establishing an identity that had the means to attend schooling. Possibly even to a university, as he was otherwise too over educated even with his basic formal muggle schooling; Harry knew at least that much, considering the times. Harry had also been learning a lot of things informally since graduating Hogwarts but that didn't mean he was taught such or knew anything about what his 'classmates' would have known. So he'd have to learn all the mannerisms and so on typical to the era. In person, as he had no Google or Wikipedia to help him understand otherwise.

It was still the eighteen-hundreds! There were plenty inventions, slang, discoveries and more within the time of his childhood and turning into wandering world traveler, reporting on the danger of technology made him notice the importance of contemporary knowledge that wasn't just history.

People, he had learned, were always advancing somehow or trying to. People, he had also learned, often didn't agree about which direction to advance in. Most people muddle through things, but some can direct what will happen and when, along with the impact. Sometimes through subtlety and sometimes through force of personality.

Harry knows he's not subtle. Sneaky and suspicious but he lacks subtly and frequently sophistication in many regards; sometimes intentionally. He's learned to employ sophistication in many ways, but that's not everything. Not nearly enough to make up for the fact that Harry knows he's a polite if blunt hammer. All time and experience have done is give him a chisel and a chance to practice precision at times. For all of that, he's still a hammer.

He's going to need all the subtlety and precision he can get. So he needs to get this _right_.

Someone born in nineteen eighty-one is obviously out of place in the year of eighteen seventy. Harry is twenty-eight and it will be one hundred and eleven years before he will even be born.

It's going to take him a while to get this right, but he has time and motivation to.

(He can only get back to his proper time through one method he's sure about. One day at at time passing.

There's plenty of magic to circumvent aging and its effects after all. He doesn't know it, but that doesn't mean he can't _learn_ it.)

 **XXXXII.**

Harry recalls pretty much nothing from his history of magic classes and he's not sure if it's a blessing or a curse. He does recall his years of traveling in very exact detail. He transfigures clothing out of the modern muggle style and into something a bit more old fashioned. Well, modern by this time period, even if people in his time would term it Victorian.

It was the Victorian era in Britian after all. That much he remembers from history. It's eighteen seventy, so it's about a decade after her husband had died. He remembers that Queen Victoria lives for another thirty years and dies around the change of the century. A new King for a new century, or something like that.

Time to see what the witches and wizards are like once he gets to England.

 **XXXXIII.**

Harry arrives in England before Christmas. He had checked out magical France of this time, which had appeared to have and not have changed. Still elegant, with careful artistic touches and a touch of scandal. Scandal for this time period anyway.

Magical France in a sentence is more or less the same. Different yes, especially in terms of what's socially appropriate but it does prepare him for a few things like the prejudice that he's going to find in Britian.

Harry does not socialize overly much in France but he does learn this much.

See, in these times, before modern plumbing, before electricity was common, before education and health-care was for every citizen... the muggle-born, the mudbloods were almost exactly what bigoted magicals said they were.

Filthy, stupid beasts with no breeding, no class, no manners and somehow had been gifted with magic. Some who didn't even know how to read before Hogwarts and had seemingly never heard of regular baths. They could have _fleas_ and _lice!_

He was from a time where such prejudice was dying. Where muggle-born could and would out-score their 'better bred' peers. Where advancements for equality were making headway under Hermione's crusades and Kingsley's ministry.

In this time, pureblood society was at its last peak of proof. The golden years, a last glorious golden time to be a pureblood in. Where such a dogma about the worth of a person being based on their breeding, the amount of magical blood in their veins could be seen as _true_. They'd raise their children to believe this and it would still be 'true' for a few more decades at least.

By that time, it would be a belief they'd cling to and privately doubt; something that the performance of their lesser-born peers would cause due to early education and increased standards of living. The idea that they could put the 'mudbloods' in their place would occur, and that they'd fight and kill and torture for that once Voldemort came to be. Once Voldemort preyed on that belief and their vulnerability there; Hogwart's house of green and silver had held some of Voldemort's first victims, because Voldemort had no problem threatening what his fellow Slytherins wanted to protect. Voldemort profited after such behavior, but the Slytherins were just further trapped by the Dark Mark and other factors. It was not a pretty change to have happen among some of the magical's most sheltered.

People adapted in order to change, but not all managed such gracefully. Some fought it tooth and nail; others worked more subtlety.

Harry knew he'd have to face such prejudice soon and it rankled.

 **XXXXIV.**

The timing of his arrival is fortunate.

He had spent a few days in France. A rented room that he had slept in, having spent the rest of his time out and about, scouting and learning. Fashion, mannerisms, and if heard one more remark about his messily-styled hair... well, the idea of growing it out was growing on him. Better than trying to use gel -no the people in this time used wax or grease- to style it. It'd still be a mess, he knew that, but maybe it'd be less wild than the constant case of bedhead that people thought he sported.

He had robes and clothing from France. Nothing spectacularly extravagant, because Harry didn't like the amount of attention that would give him. It was a little different from the usual high-priced styles but not by much. Magical fashion hadn't changed much, except by cultures. Harry feels that he doesn't attract too much attention in his robes. They're long enough to cover his trousers; that would really give him away.

His timing is fortunate precisely because of the holidays. He can break into offices, unnoticed and undisturbed, and create an identity.

 **XXXXV.**

He's had time to think about his new identity.

He can't be Harry James Potter, Chosen One, Boy-Who-Lived and so on. Harry James Potter doesn't exist in this time. He _can't_.

He had muddled over his name for a few hours one night. He'll still be Harry, but choosing between what it's short for is another issue. Harrison is not something he's fond of and Henry less so. Potter is a common enough surname, so he'll keep that.

His new name is inspired by the Romans and Hadrian's Wall. Hadrian becomes Harry. No one had to say nicknames had to make sense, otherwise Bill might have been a Will instead of Bill.

He's still Harry Potter, but he's not the Chosen One or the Boy-Who-Lived anymore.

Hadrian "Harry" Evan Potter is a nice enough name.

He's also going to get a lot of practice writing it down the next few weeks, between a few spells and some tracking.

 **XXXXVI.**

One of the better things about this time is that Hogwarts being an elite school institution actually **is** true. It's lacking in the muggle sciences but since Hogwarts actually teaches _subjects_ instead of just making sure people know reading and writing and basic arithmetic its superiority is _true_.

The problem is that Hogwarts is practically alive and has a long memory. Teachers would remember students, students would remember classmates. Still, he hadn't been a Hitwizard for nothing and it's not like he didn't remember the more estoric knowledge that most people don't know. Like the best way to alter someone's memory was to let them do it for you. Not like Slughorn did, as that was very obviously wrong but... psychology had proven that people could make up memories and then believe them. Which makes the memory seem true.

People are very adept at lying to themselves. Memory is a strange substance. Very malleable, yet strong enough to motivate and bind people for the rest of their lives.

Thankfully he can look up all sorts of information at the Ministry.

 **XXXXVII.**

Harry Evan Potter was a bright student even if his written work didn't always show it. His parents died when he was young. He pens that his mother was a widow who raised him, with support from her family; his aunt and uncle.

Then his mother was murdered when he was young, so custody went to his aunt and uncle. He'd have to make some police records for that, as there was an actual police force in Britain even if it was still very young, but that would be simple. His uncle was paid well... fuck. He's going to have to modify financial records too since Hogwarts had a rather dated system for how much muggleborns pay for their education. A mental note to break into the Headmaster's office later...

Wait, who was Hogwart's Headmaster at the moment? Wasn't Phineas Black the Headmaster of Hogwarts at this point? Harry knew that Phineas had been around at some point around this era, so he had to be a professor at least. Didn't Sirius say that he had been the least popular Headmaster of Hogwarts? Modifying old records wouldn't be easy then. The Blacks weren't the most pleasant people and having spent quite some time with Phineas' portrait he knew the wizard to be clever, someone who hated cocky young brats. Would Phineas have been as paranoid as Sirius' father who had warded Grimmuald before Dumbledore put the Fidelius up on it?

Who had been Headmaster before Black?

Harry couldn't recall the name. However he could learn it later. He still had the rest of his background to fabricate and that would take a few days.

 **XXXXVIII.**

Harry Evan Potter was twenty-eight years old, and had graduated with high marks from an old private school in Scotland he had got into by luck and mostly paid for by scholarship.

He had then became an investigator for the police. Forging those records was less easy because of the sheer amount of work involved, much like 'his' tax records. Even altering memories was easier; a nudge here, an idea there and an entire event that never happened was remembered. A decade was enough time for memories to blur should anyone ask after him then.

Harry Evan Potter was also a widower, one who had loved his wife very much. It was a convenient way to explain persistent grief away. Childbirth being the cause, where the child didn't survive either. A tragic but not uncommon situation. Ron and Hermione were killed by illness, their children hadn't survived past childhood either because a marriage without children in these days meant they weren't sharing a bed or she was barren. Kids that hadn't survived to adulthood was common though, no matter a person's station or magical ability, so that's what happened.

Harry Evan Potter had a lot of dead friends and family, the detectives at 'his' police station were willing to swear. They'd whisper about too much loss being too much and Harry leaving to travel, to get away from the memories.

His friends weren't dead, they hadn't been born yet but each day he woke up it felt more and more like they were dead.

It wasn't a nice feeling.

 **XXXXIX.**

This only leaves the question of what he's going to do. He knows he can't stay in Britain. He could change and effect too much. Just by being there.

Never mind the _temptation_ to actually do that. To change it all. See if he can get rid of the senseless blood-prejudice that only lived on through fear because of the threat the ever-present "they" could be to everyone.

He could be an academic of a sort, but he's not Hermione; the idea doesn't appeal. He knows enough languages to make a living translating, but it's not something he really wants to do.

Being able to travel is a must. Being tied down is not. Wanderlust is something he's become very familiar with. There are jobs that allow travel. Working the rails?

But with his sort of overly-generous-education for the time period? Even with just the general knowledge, he knows more and is sure of more than even some of the most educated of the time. The knowledge of _languages_ alone at least mark him as upper-class and his behavior would and could only be from an eccentric.

There's still only a few jobs left to his sort of qualifications. A scientist of some sort, studying something like Darwin's finches or sea life or whatever or perhaps a doctor or even a lawyer.

Being a scientist seems less than ideal. A lawyer would be even worse. A doctor would work. He knows first-aid, anatomy and even a bit of psychology. He could study medicine, use what he can do of Occulmency to retain the material better. Doctors could easily travel in this time period.

Magical careers in Britain and abroad are out of the question. He'd be too tempted to meddle. Best to remove himself entirely.

 **L.**

Harry leaves Britain.

France is familiar, close-by but still far enough away that he can fight the urge to go to Diagon and do things like killing the idea of blood purity.

France has those issues too, but maybe it's some distinct national pride influence that he doesn't feel the need to work on those issues. Doctors need medical school and experience on top of knowledge. He does need more schooling than what he has; knowledge of basic first-aid without magic and how to heal with a wand is not the sort of skills a doctor should have.

It's going to be a lot of work but he's got nothing but time. A hundred and ten years, with a few more months and then he'd be born again.

That is if he doesn't wake up dead from old age prior to then.

It's possible after all.

A century is a long time.

* * *

I know that some people are very fond of the 400-year old Vongola thing, but I'm not. Plus haven't they seen paintings and drawings of people from the 1600 and 1700 hundreds?

Giotto's pinstripe suit would be very much out of place amid all the tights and heavily embroidered doublets and so on.


End file.
